Strange Nature | The Old Man of the Lake
The Klamath people have lived on the lands that we now call Oregon since history began. Amongst the legends they've passed down is an incredible story of one of the most spectacularly explosive moments in natural history. And it’s more than just a tall tale - it’s a first hand, eyewitness account from more than 8000 years ago. What’s more, there’s a 450 year old Man of the Lake at the center of this story. He’s been there for over 120 years, and you can still go see him, floating there, in the sacred waters.
Monadalkni, the Evil Spirit Chief of the Below World, envied the beautiful, green domain of the Klamath people. One day while watching them from a hole in his mountain fortress, he noticed a beautiful maiden, Loha, surrounded by brave warriors who vied for her hand in marriage. With one look, Monadalkni was smitten, and dispatched his most trusted emissary, Skooks, to propose to Loha on his behalf.
Hooded in dark wolf skin, Skooks suddenly appeared to the people. He brought with him exquisite furs, valuable feathers, and the promise of everlasting life. In a brilliant flash of orange light, all of the other suitors competing for the attention of Loha vanished, and Skooks demanded an answer. Loha did not want to live an eternal life in the Below World, so she ran to find her father, the Klamath Chief, who immediately called council with the elders and medicine men. They decided to hide Loha with the Modoc people to the south.
Monadalkni soon learned of Loha’s disappearance, and in an uncontrollable rage, began shaking like thunder and throwing lightning bolts. There was an explosion so big that it blew the top of the mountain into the sky. Giant fireballs shot out of the mountain and hot lava rained down on the people. The Evil Spirit Chief stood on top of his mountain, spewing fire from his mouth, and destroying the beautiful forests he envied, while the terrified people sought refuge in the waters of Klamath Lake.
Moy-Yaina (Mount Mazama), home of Monadalkni. Paul Rockwood (image courtesy of National Park Service, Crater Lake National Park Museum and Archive Collections).
Believing a sacrifice to the creator to be the only way, two of the eldest medicine men waded out of the lake and bravely made their way to the mountain top, and threw themselves into the seething mouth of the mountain. Standing on top of nearby Mt. Shasta, gmok’am’c, The Creator, saw the bravery of the medicine men and engaged in a fiery exchange with Monadalkni. The earth trembled and the sky glowed red, but the creator proved too strong for the Evil Spirit Chief, forcing him back into the bubbling caldera and collapsing what remained of the mountaintop into the entrance to the below world.
Gii-was (Crater Lake)
Seeing this victory, the remaining medicine men sang their sacred songs and rains came to extinguish the fires. And there, at the very peak of Tum-sum-ne (a Klamath word for the big mountain with top cut off) the rains filled the hole with the clearest blue water, forming a sacred lake called Gii-was that trapped Monadalkni forever in the below world.
The Klamath and Modoc people kept Gii-was secret for nearly 7000 years, until 1852 when white people first stumbled into the area and caught a glimpse of the unforgettably blue waters. Only 50 years later, they had claimed their “discovery” for themselves, and renamed it Crater Lake, our 5th National Park.
That same year, 1902, geologist Joseph Diller wrote of an eerie sight. He claimed that on a visit in 1896, he had seen what is now known as The Old Man of the Lake. Just floating there, upright, most of him concealed beneath the water. And the old man? He was still there, 6 years later. Still floating, still upright, bobbing around near Wizard Island - the place most associated with Monadalkni in Klamath legend. And he was moving.
In 1938, park naturalist John Doerr spent three months tracking the old man’s travel patterns, noting, and I quote, “the Old Man travels extensively and, at times, surprisingly fast.” According to Doerr's report, over the course of 3 months, the Old Man floated 62 miles through the waters of Crater Lake, sometimes against the wind.
In 1988, the US Government hired a helicopter to bring a submarine to the top of the mountain. At nearly 2000 feet, Crater Lake is the deepest in the United States, and as history has seen of us countless times before and since, we needed to know what was down there. To keep him from impeding their investigation, the eager researchers restrained the Old Man of the Lake, mooring him to the shores of Wizard Island. Immediately, the blue skies gave way to a ferocious storm, and when the snow began falling - in August - the nervous scientists untied the Old Man, allowing him to once again float freely. Moments later, the skies cleared.
The Old Man of the Lake is still there, still floating. You can boat right out to him, and when you’re that close, the clear waters of Gii-was allow you to see all of him, even what is below the surface. He’s 30 feet tall, his lower half covered in a moss that is only found in one other location - at a depth of 394 feet in this same lake.
You see, the Old Man of the Lake isn’t a man at all, but maybe you’d already guessed that. He is, in fact, a Hemlock Log, carbon dated at over 450 years old, who has been floating upright - with nearly 4 feet of sunbleached log sticking straight up out of the water - for at least 125 years.
The Old Man of the Lake is still there today.
A normal log would have sunk within 2 weeks. 2 months tops for the most porous of woods. But he’s buoyant enough that rangers have climbed out of their boats and stood upon him for photos. Disrespectful, if you ask me. Scientists aren’t really sure how he got there, or why he’s still there. They can’t explain why he floats vertically. And strangely, he doesn’t seem to be degrading.
Ranger standing on the Old Man.
Maybe the Old Man of the Lake is one of those brave Medicine Men who saved the Klamath people from certain demise. Maybe he’s a trusted protector, sent by the creator, watching over the lake, and ensuring that Monadalkni doesn’t find his way back to the surface. It’s possible that the Old Man of the Lake is Monadalkni himself, waiting for his chance to erupt.
Or maybe The Old Man of the Lake is just a log - a log that defies physics and controls the weather. You decide.
